


Bring your brothers

by liggytheauthoress



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Devil's Carnival (2012)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, implied suicide, oh my god what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liggytheauthoress/pseuds/liggytheauthoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor wakes up in the Devil's Carnival with only one thought: find Murphy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring your brothers

Connor jolts awake with a gasp. His head aches, he’s dizzy, and he has no idea where he is or how he got there; he’s remembers sitting on the edge of a bed with a gun - Murphy’s gun - in his hands, thinking about how easy it would be to just pull the trigger, and then...Nothing.

He looks around, brow furrowing as he takes in his surroundings. He’s on the ground in what appears to be a small, dark tent. It’s mostly empty, but there’s an all-too-familiar rosary sitting near his feet.

Murphy.

Murphy is here.

Connor scrambles to his feet, grabbing the rosary and clutching it to his chest. “Murph?”

No answer. All Connor hears is the distant sound of slightly off-key calliope and the pounding of his own heart.

Clenching the rosary in his fist, Connor hurtles out of the tent on unsteady legs. He needs to find his brother.

He needs to find Murphy.

* * *

 

“Listen up, everyone!” The Ticket-Keeper waits for the carnies to quiet down and gather around him, ready for tonight’s instructions. “Tonight is going to be a...special performance. We have a new act!” Cheers, as well as a hopeful gleam in everyone’s eyes as they wait to be told who the key players would be, eager for a chance to perform.

“The Twin will be performing in dual roles tonight,” the Ticket-Keeper continues, ignoring the disappointed moans. “We-”

“Why should he get two shows when some of us haven’t had an act in weeks?” Wick interrupts, glaring at the Twin, who has come to stand behind the Ticket-Keeper.

The Ticket-Keeper glares at Wick, who immediately silences. “The reason,” he says, speaking slowly to show his irriitation, “is this: our new act is going to affect one of our established acts. Very much. As it is one of the Twin’s acts, he’s required for the new one as well.”

They’re all intrigued now. It’s been a while since there’s been a new act that’s connected to an existing one. It always makes for a highly interesting night - anything can happen. The script is cast aside and improvisation takes its place. Even non-key players sometimes get the chance to perform on nights like this.

The Ticket-Keeper isn’t done, though. “I would also like to announce that the Boss himself will be taking part in tonight’s performance. So all of you - best behavior.”

There’s laughter at that, because the term “best behavior” has a very different meaning here.

* * *

 

Murphy always wakes up in the same place. A tattered old mattress, placed flush against a huge mirror. Only whenever he opens his eyes and sees his reflection, it’s not his face that he sees but Connor’s.

He doesn’t know how many times it’s happened.

He just knows that every time he wakes and automatically reaches for his reflection, only to have his hand stopped by the cold glass - because Connor isn’t actually there, Connor will never be there - the small part of him that hasn’t completely given itself over to hopelessness shrinks a little more.

It’s always the same.

Except this time...this time something is different. He’s not entirely sure what, not at first, but as he turns to look at his reflection - Connor’s reflection? - he notices.

His rosary is missing.

So is his coat.

That’s never happened before.

Murphy starts, looking around for them frantically, because they’re his only links to...to before the carnival. To Connor. But his search turns up nothing.

The hollowness that’s been in Murphy’s chest for so long increases, and he sinks his head into his hands and sighs and wishes it would just _end._ The infinite cycle of looking for Connor, finding him, losing him...It’s a far worse Hell than he ever could have imagined.

He knows that he can’t sit there. He has to get up and venture out, play his part, the part he’s been forced to play again and again, each time hurting more than the last.

Maybe he’ll find his things.

It’s been a while since he’s had any motivation to go outside.

Casting a glance over his shoulder at his - Connor’s - face, Murphy leaves the solitude of the tent.

* * *

 

Connor has no idea how long he’s been wandering around this damn carnival, but he knows that he needs to find Murphy and get out of there as soon as possible. He clings to the rosary in his hands as he searches for any other sign of his brother, even though there’s a voice at the back of his head insisting the search is pointless, because Murphy can’t be there, but he ignores it.

There’s a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone in a black coat disappearing behind a corner.

Connor’s heart speeds up.

“Murph!” he shouts, taking off after them, almost falling over in his desperation to get to his brother. “ _Murph!_ ”

He scrambles around the corner, instantly reaching out for Murphy, grasping his shoulder tightly. Only the figure turns then and it isn’t Murphy, Connor’s not sure it’s even human - it looks like a man covered with flaking green scales.

Connor feels his heart plummet as he staggers back, the disappointment wringing a low choking noise from his throat, because he’d been so certain it was Murphy. The man standing before him grins, a sickening sight, and says, “Like the coat?”

“Where the fuck did you get that?” Connor growls, because it’s Murphy’s coat, it’s _Murphy’s coat_ and nobody but Murphy is allowed to wear it, not ever.

“Around.” The man brushes off the arm, as though removing dust that Connor can’t see.

Connor promptly shoves the man up against the wall of the closest booth, pressing an arm across his neck, and yells, “Where the _fuck did you get it?_ ”

The man merely grins again, eyes gleaming. “Not allowed to tell. But if you want it, I’d be willing to trade for it.” He gestures with his head, since his hands are currently attempting to pry Connor’s arm away from his neck. “Your coat for this one.”

“How about I trade you your life for answers?” Connor says through gritted teeth. “The man you got the coat from, is he here? _Is he?_ ”

Rolling his eyes, the man answers, “Look, you want to make the trade or not? If not, I’m sure I can find somebody else who’d be more than happy to-”

“Fine.” The thought of someone else getting Murph’s coat is enough to make him stop demanding information (for now, anyway). He strips out of his own coat and tosses it over. “Fucking hand it over.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the man says, holding out the coat.

By the time Connor has grabbed it and slipped it on, the man has vanished into the maze of tents and booths. Connor’s not going to let him get off so easily, though - he has to know something about where Murphy is, how else could he have gotten the coat?

Slipping Murphy’s rosary around his neck, on top of his own, Connor takes off running.

* * *

 

Sometimes Murphy wonders what would happen if he simply refused to go into that fucking tent.

The first time he’d gone inside what had turned out to be his own personal section of Hell, he’d thought he was waking up from a nightmare, because suddenly he was back in their flat in Boston and Connor was sitting at the table, smiling at him like nothing was wrong.

Murphy had run over to him, practically tackling him in a hug, and Connor had hugged back and tousled his hair a little and called him a ridiculous motherfucker and asked why he looked so unsettled.

It was right about then that Murphy had realized there was a third person at the table. An older man, with stringy hair and a smirk that was more than a little disturbing, and all at once Murphy knew the nightmare wasn’t over yet.

Since that first time, Murphy has come to know the man as the Ticket-Keeper. He rarely gets involved in “performances”, but he’d apparently requested the chance to do this one. Something about enjoying Murphy’s reactions - fucking sadist, that’s what he is.

Every time, Murphy thinks about just not going into the tent, but he always does it anyway. If nothing else, it’s a way for him to see Connor again, however briefly. Even if it does end...not well.

It always happens the same way. The Ticket-Keeper introduces himself, amused as he watches Murphy cling to his brother.

Then the Ticket-Keeper will produce two shotglasses and set them in front of the twins. One is filled with water, he informs Murphy, and the other with poison. He looks at Murphy and says, “It’s up to you to decide which of you lives and which of you dies.” Eyes glinting, he adds, “The poison is in the glass on the left.”

Murphy never asks why the Ticket-Keeper is telling him where the poison is. He only reaches for the glass on the left and pushes the other, the one with the water, in front of Connor. Connor never says anything during this, but when Murphy gives him the glass, he always looks reluctant. He’ll give Murphy a pleading look, as if begging him to switch glasses, but Murphy never does.

They down their drinks at the same time. Murphy grips the edge of the table and waits.

Then Connor coughs.

The Ticket-Keeper smirks.

Murphy’s stomach feels like lead.

“ _Fuck!_ ” He lunges forward to catch Connor as his brother falls from his chair. “Conn...”

Connor chuckles, a bead of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and says in a breathless voice, “Typical Murph...”

“Conn, I swear, I thought it was the fuckin’ water...”

“Always puttin’ me before yourself.” Connor’s gaze is almost accusatory. “Fuckin’ lot of good that did this time.”

And then he looks Murphy straight in the eye and says three words that make Murphy want to just stop existing. “It’s your fault.”

Then Connor’s eyes close and his head falls back and Murphy is left with his brother’s last words ringing in his ears and the sheer, crushing guilt that’s threatening to make him pass out, because it _is_ his fault, but he’d thought he was keeping Connor safe, surely Connor had known that, it was what Murphy had been doing their entire lives - Connor came first. Always.

“That’s why you’re here,” comes the Ticket-Keeper’s voice. “You can’t always put him first.”

Murphy rounds on him, snarling as he throws his chair at the bastard’s head. “You fucker! You told me that was the water!”

“I was proving a point.” The Ticket-Keeper seems quite unperturbed at having a chair thrown at him. “In the end, your compulsion to keep him safe at the expense of your own well-being will always destroy the both of you.”

“Fuck you!”

Murphy grabs the other chair to throw, but he glances over his shoulder and sees the grinning, green-skinned figure lying where Connor had fallen, and it hits him that it wasn’t Connor, it was never Connor - these two have just been fucking with his head. And then the Ticket-Keeper and the man Murphy now knows as the Twin howl with laughter, as though the pain they’ve just subjected Murphy to is the most hilarious thing they’ve ever seen.

And Murphy flees from the tent, flees from the laughter, flees from the fact that, even though it hadn’t been Connor, he’d killed his brother.

It’s always the same.

Until now.

Murphy doesn’t notice it at first, not until he leans over to hug Connor (the Twin) the way he always does. Then it hits him. The Twin is wearing a coat.

Connor’s coat.

“Where did you fuckin’ get that?” Murphy hisses, grabbing the Twin by the lapels of his coat - _Connor’s_ coat. “ _Where?_ ”

The Twin smirks. “Got it in a trade.”

“With _who_?”

“Friend of yours. I think he’s looking for you, actually.”

Connor.

But _how..._ Murphy wonders if it’s all part of the act, if it’s just another way they’ve decided to fuck with him, but it’s not likely. The act has never deviated one bit before now.

Which means the coat is only here because Connor is also here.

Murphy wrenches the Twin from his seat and slams him onto the table. “I’m only gonna ask once. _Where - is - he?_ ”

“How should I know?” the Twin replies indifferently. “It’s a big carnival. Could be anywhere, I suppose.”

“If you have even the slightest fuckin’ idea where he is...”

“Don’t. Honest.” The Twin’s face takes on a more-or-less sincere expression. “Now are you gonna play your part or have I been sitting here waiting for nothing?”

Murphy doesn’t even dignify that with an answer. He simply flips the Twin over and practically tears the coat off of him before shoving him onto the floor. “Fuck you,” he snarls as he kicks the Twin in the head before backing out of the tent, wrapping Connor’s around himself as he does so. Like hell he’s going to waste time playing this stupid fucking game while his brother is so close.

He’s had enough of following their script for him.

He’s finding his brother.

* * *

 

Connor’s pretty sure he’s lost. The green man disappeared a while ago, and since then Connor’s just been wandering back and forth among the stalls and tents. He doubts he’s any closer to finding Murphy than he was when he started, but he’s too overwhelmed to come up with any sort of plan right now.

He’s starting to wonder if he hasn’t just gone crazy. How can Murphy be here, after all? Murphy...Murphy is dead. Connor watched him die. Connor fucking buried him. Then again, Connor’s pretty damn sure he shot himself in the head not too long ago, and if he’s here walking around, is it so unreasonable to assume that Murphy is too?

Before Connor can dwell on the matter any longer, he sees someone ducking into a tent. Just before they disappear inside, they turn their head just enough for Connor to catch a glimpse of their face.

It’s Murphy.

Connor doesn’t even think twice before lunging into the tent after him. “ _Murph!_ ”

He finds himself stumbling into a long, winding mirrored hallway. At least he thinks it’s a hallway; the mirrors make it difficult to tell what’s real and what’s a reflection. And what makes it even more confusing is the fact that Connor’s reflection isn’t his own - it’s Murphy’s.

For a few moments, he has to stop and stare, because he hasn’t seen his brother’s face in so, so long, and even this is welcome. His heart aches at the sight of Murphy’s face, and he’s reaching out to touch the glass when he remembers that he came in here following the real Murphy, and then Connor’s running again.

After a lot of dead ends and running into mirrors, Connor finds himself bursting through a wooden door into a small, dimly lit room. And Murphy is standing in front of him, smiling a little, and saying, “Conn...You found me. Knew you would.”

“Murph...” Connor is frozen for a second. Then he can move again and he’s practically barreling into Murphy and wrapping himself around him and he’s pretty sure he’ll never let go again. He’s so focused on the feeling of holding his brother again that he barely hears the strange voice coming from the corner.

“Hello, Connor. I’ve been expecting you.”

* * *

 

Murphy is beginning to wish he’d pressed the Twin harder for information, because he’s been wandering around cluelessly for at least half an hour and has no fucking idea where Connor could possibly be. He stops running for a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings - is this the third time he’s run this way, or the fourth?

“Psst.” A sharp whisper from somewhere nearby catches Murphy’s attention.

He turns to see one of the Woe-Maidens - Wick, he remembers - lurking in the shadows of a booth, gesturing for him to come closer. Murphy hesitates, instinctively reluctant to trust anyone in this hellhole, but when Wick whispers conspiratorially, “I can help you find him,” his feet move of their own accord.

“Why the fuck should I trust you?” Murphy growls a little.

“Because you’ve got nothing to lose,” Wick replies casually. “Now do you want to find him or not?”

“Where?”

“The funhouse. Down that way.” Wick gestures with her head. “That’s where his act’s supposed to end. But hurry - if you miss it you’ll both wind up back where you started.”

Murphy turns to go in the direction she gave him, but stops to look back at her with curiosity. “Why the fuck are you helpin’ me, anyway?”

“It’s not out of a sense of nobility, trust me,” Wick remarks, rolling her eyes at the mere thought. “I just figured, if I can’t get any performances, the least I can do is screw up one of the Twin’s acts.” She shrugs. “Now go find your brother. And if anyone asks, you didn’t see me.” With that, she’s vanished into the shadows, and it’s as if she was never there.

Instantly Murphy is off and running. He knows it’s probably foolish to trust anyone around here, but he wouldn’t put something this spiteful past Wick, and for once, he’s grateful for her childish attitude.

Connor is close. Murphy can feel it.

* * *

 

Connor squints into the darkness, trying to make out the owner of the voice. As his eyes adjust to the light, he sees it’s...well, he _thinks_ it’s a man. One with large black horns jutting out from his forehead, but a man.

Connor is instantly uneasy. He has no idea who this man is, but he knows he’s not a friend. “Stay the fuck away from me and my brother,” he snarls, tightening his hold on Murphy.

The man in the corner cocks his head. “And what makes you so sure that’s your brother?”

A queasy feeling settles in Connor’s stomach.

He’s unable to move as Murphy pulls away. Only now it’s not Murphy. It’s that fucking green bastard from before, and he’s got the same fucking smirk on his face as Connor reels backwards in disgust. Connor feels like he might actually start crying, because it _had_ been Murphy, it _had_ , and they’d fucking taken him away again. “Who the _fuck_ are you people??”

The horned man stands, giving an exaggerated bow. “I’m known as many things, actually. But the preferred title is Lucifer.”

“Where the fuck’s my brother?” Connor growls in a low voice

“Does it matter? You’re not here to find him. You’re here because you broke the rules. You’re here because you gave in to your grief. Now you must suffer the consequences.”

“Fuck you!” Connor yells. “Who the fuck are you to punish me for grievin’? Did _your_ brother die saving your fuckin’ life because he was always too stupid to put himself first? Did _you_ have to fuckin’ bury him? Don’t you fuckin’ tell me not to grieve, you motherfucker!”

Lucifer looks unperturbed by Connor’s outburst, which only makes Connor angrier, but before he can say or do anything further, Lucifer is speaking again. “You’ve learned nothing here.” He sounds a little too gleeful for Connor’s liking. “How marvelous.” He stands, reaching for something on the table beside his chair. “I do love it when new people join the carnival. Now there’s just one more thing you need to do to seal the deal.”

“Fuck off.” Connor’s so tempted to just leave right now, but Lucifer clearly knows where Murphy is, and that’s enough to keep Connor where he is.

“Now, now, it’s just a formality. A contract, if you will.” When Lucifer turns around, he’s holding a gun, offering it to Connor. “Your brother isn’t coming back. But if you do this, this one last thing, you’ll be able to see him again, the way you did tonight.”

There’s silence as Connor considers this. He’s starting to wonder if his search for Murphy has just been entirely futile. And he had been able to see his brother again this way, not for long, but it was more than he’d had before. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad...

Connor takes the gun.

* * *

 

The first thing Murphy sees when he kicks the door open is Connor raising a gun to his head.

He reacts instantly, shouting, “Connor! Put the fuckin’ gun down!” He can’t lose Connor now, not again, not after finally finding him.

Connor stares at him. Murphy stares back. The gun stills but doesn’t lower. “...No,” Connor says wearily. “No more of this shit. I’ve had enough. I’m not gonna let you fuckin’ people keep messin’ with my fuckin’ head like this.”

Christ. Connor didn’t think it was really him. Hell, Murphy would probably think the same thing if not for the fact that the Twin was standing in the corner, looking on with amusement. Quietly, steadily, Murphy says, “Connor...it’s me.”

“No it’s not!” The way Connor’s voice breaks makes Murphy want to hit something. “It’s never you!”

Murphy knows that, if Connor pulls the trigger, he’ll be stuck here forever, and as much as he wants to have Connor near him, he won’t let that happen. “Connor. Look at me. If I wasn’t real, if I was part of all this, would I be stopping’ you from shootin’ yourself?” He gave Connor a pleading stare. “Please. Put the gun down.”

At first, Connor doesn’t move. Then, slowly, he lowers the gun, placing it on the ground without taking his eyes from Murphy’s face. Then he’s approaching Murphy cautiously, the skepticism in his face evident. Murphy says nothing as Connor reaches out and touches his face. “Murph...”

“It’s me, ya fuckin’ idiot.”

That’s all it takes for Connor to pull him close and cling on for dear life. Murphy clings back, burying his face in his brother’s shoulder and trying not to cry because this is really, truly Connor.

The joy is short-lived, though, because Murphy realizes that Connor can’t stay. He can’t. Murphy isn’t going to let his brother suffer the same fate he did. “Connor...you can’t stay here.”

Connor gapes at him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“You have to move on, or...you’ll be stuck here for good.”

“So I’m stuck here for good. I’ll be with you.”

“I’m not lettin’ you do that. I couldn’t get out, but you still can.”

Connor gives him a look. “Fuck that. I’m not leavin’ you again.”

“Connor...”

“If I go, you’re comin’ with me.”

Lucifer’s weary sigh brings their attention back to him. “And what, may I ask, makes either of you think I would let even one of you go?” he says, sounding bored. “It’s quite obvious neither of you have learned your lesson. And Murphy, you sealed your contract a long time ago. So please, enlighten me: how do you expect to get me to let you leave?”

Murphy tries to think of something, anything, that will at least get Connor off the hook. Suddenly, an idea strikes him. It’s a long shot, but if it works, it might just get them both out of there. “Because we can fight back,” he says, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.

“Oh really? And how is that, do tell?”

“If we figured out how to change our scripts, how hard d’you think it’d be for us to get other people to do the same thing?” He locks eyes with Lucifer in an attempt to stare him down. “For every soul you reel in, we can save two more. How long before this fuckin’ carnival is out of business?”

“Are you...threatening me?” Lucifer actually looks irritated. “ _You_?”

“Fuckin’ right, I am.” Murphy’s pretty sure this is the most insane gamble he’s ever taken, but he presses on. “It’s in your best interests to let us go. And what’re two souls to you, really?”

For a long, long while, the room is completely silent as Lucifer takes this into consideration. Murphy can feel Connor’s embrace tightening, but he refuses to break eye contact with Lucifer.

Finally, Lucifer sighs again and says, “Damn.” He rubs his temple. “I concede that you do...have a point.”

“Just let us go and the problem goes away,” Murphy says. He honestly doesn’t know what he’ll do if this doesn’t work.

Lucifer throws up his hands in frustration. “I am far, far too busy to deal with this.” He points to the door behind them. “Just...just go. The last thing I need in this carnival is anarchy.”

Murphy blinks. Lucifer glares at him. “I want you both out of my carnival by the time I return,” he says stonily. “If you’re still here, the deal is off.” With that, he turns on his heels and leaves, the Twin trailing along behind him.

Connor is staring at Murphy. “I can’t believe that fuckin’ worked...”

“Neither can I.” Murphy’s legs are having trouble supporting his weight. He looks at Connor and smiles slowly, saying, “Now let’s get the fuck out’ve here, yeah?”

They glance at the door behind them. There’s a bright white light emanating from the other side, and Connor asks, “D’you suppose that’s...?”

“Dunno.” Murphy takes his hand and squeezes it. “Find out together?”

Connor nods. “Find out together.”

Hand-in-hand, they step over the threshold.


End file.
